Bernadine

 I hit my stride in Louisiana
Where it’s hard to tell the daytime from the night
I placed my bet and I saw the faces
Of the winners and the losers in the light

 I’ve dragged my nets off the Widow Maker
I’m up three weeks pay I got a motel key
New Orleans sure found a winner
Off a run down, low rent, gulf coast loser like me

Am I the worst you’ve seen Bernadine
Shed a little of your lovin’ down my way
Keep these dice from turning cold
Make my hard times shine like gold
Shed a little mercy Bernadine

 Well the rain falls hard on the motel window
As the night gives in along the Ponchartrain
I ran with Little Joe and lost all my money
Whiskey n’ saltwater running through my veins

 Saint Bernadine please don’t forsake me
You got to help me find my way
If these hard times don’t over take me
I’ll cast my nets into the Galveston Bay

 © Michael S. O’Connor & Adam Carroll

Billy Gibbons’ Beard

 In the gulf coast Texas honky-tonks they sweep the eyeballs off the floor
The smoke will make you shed a tear as you stumble through the door
Well I wound up on the bottle like my mom and dad had feared
With a bar tab twice as long as Billy Gibbons’ beard

 Well I’m throwing up roof shingles with my home boy Crazy Eight
I’d buy myself a Cadillac if I ever caught a break
Drive it down old fifty-nine and play that outlaw game
Maybe park it in Louise where the cops don’t know my name

 There’s a dusty Heisman trophy sitting on the shelf
There’s a long gone run down hero in here talking to him self
About the days he used to run that ball when everybody cheered
There’s a band playing in this bar called Billy Gibbons’ Beard

 Well I’m upside down on highway six with just myself to blame
Still a dime waiting on a buck I’ve always been the same
Well I should have gone to the Astrodome back in my senior year
I could have heard some rock n roll and touched Billy Gibbons’ beard

 © Michael S. O’Connor & Adam Carroll

Throw a Nickel

Jimmy’s come home
Off the county farm
Born to lose
Tattooed across his arm
He was drowned by the judge
But now he’s made his share
Poor momma pays for
The clothes he wears

 
Jesus saves
But he can’t save a buck
Preachers gettin’ paid
By the folks down on their luck
They’ll ring it up all night
At the liquor store
But till your tab’s caught up
You can’t have no more

 Throw a nickel throw a dime
Throw a nickel throw a dime
In these old hard times
Throw a nickel throw a dime

 Slide down to Tracy’s Barber Shop
Down beneath the pool hall and Bottoms Up
Skull full of pills, rattle them bones
Taxi cab’s honking like a saxophone
Jimmy’s come home

 Whistlin’ that tune, chippin’ just a pinch
Till he dug himself a hole
On the wrong side of the fence
Buried alive by the judge
He fell just like a house of cards
With a monkey on his back
And his feet shackled in the yard

 Throw a nickel throw a dime
Throw a nickel throw a dime
In these old hard times
Throw a nickel throw a dime

 © Michael S. O’Connor & Adam Carroll

Hard Times

 Well holes in the crotch, holes in the knees
Got holes in every pair of my old blue jeans
But I got these duds from a friend of mine
He said he had to sell ‘em for these old hard times

 Hard times, Hard times
My old buddy’s got the old hard times
He used to be a buck now he's hangin’ on a dime
My old friend’s got the old hard times

 Patchin’ up my kids with Walmart patches
If I got cremated they'd be selling off my ashes
I met my old uncle at the store downtown
He said hand me back all my hand me downs

 Hard times, Hard times
My poor old uncle’s got the old hard times
His gloves and his pockets got a damn fine line
And there’s holes in the fingers from the old hard times

 Well the Dow took a tumble and the Jones took a hit
It’s a drop in the bucket of a pile of shit
But the president says that we’ll all be fine
If we bend on over and take it up the behind

 Hard Times, Hard Times
I guess the parking meter ran down this time
My old trombone done lost it's shine
Playing pretty rusty through these old hard times

 Well I went to the bar, bought a round for the house
I had to drink it all by myself
There wasn’t anybody in the bar but me
And the bartenders said its BYOB

 Hard times, Hard times
The old bartender she’s got the old hard times
She can’t afford the beer and she can't afford the wine
And I can't afford to tip her with the old hard times
I’d like to take her home in these old hard times

 © Michael S. O’Connor & Adam Carroll

Bottle Down

 Darlin’ lay the bottle down
Darlin’ lay the bottle down
The kids are a mess and your way across town
Darlin’ lay the bottle down

 I caught your daddy at the Texaco
Caught your daddy at the Texaco
He said you’re running with the boys from Refugio
I caught your daddy at the Texaco

 He said your sweet little momma prayin’ through the night
Your sweet little momma prayin’ through the night
How’d her baby get wound so tight?
Your sweet little momma prayin’ through the night

 All that liquor running through your veins
Has got you locked in the devil’s chains
Twist and fight till you come undone
It leaves a taste on the tip of you tongue

 With your golden hair and your pearly teeth
Your golden hair and your pearly teeth
Trying to hide what’s underneath
Your golden hair and your pearly teeth

 Darlin’ lay the bottle down
Darlin’ lay the bottle down
The kids are a mess and you’re runnin’ around
Darlin’ lay the bottle down

 © Michael S. O’Connor

Tired Of Myself

 I’m tired of myself
Tired of walking in my midnight shoes
Tired of doing what I used to do
When I was somebody else
I’m tired of myself
Tired of stumbling though the same old doors
Won’t you pick me up off of this floor
I could use some help
I’m tired of myself

 You might see me up here singing my songs
All alone on the microphone
You might think I got it made up here on this stage
But there’s a bunch of other stuff going on

 I’m tired of myself
Tired of looking at my worn out hands
Tired of playing in my box of sand
All by myself
I’m tired of myself
Can I get just a little relief
Tired of smoking on the same old spliff 
Pass it to somebody else
I’m tired of myself

 There’s hard times going on now everywhere now
Nobody’s quite sure what to do
But if you ever find yourself getting tired of yourself
Well I’d like to trade places with you
Cuz. I’m tired of myself
Tired of pissing through the same small hole
Tired fishing with my old cane pole
Put it back on the shelf
I’m tired of myself

 I don’t know about you
I’m tired of myself
I don’t know what to do
I’m tired of myself
Can I be somebody new
Cuz’ I'm tired of myself

 © Adam Carroll

Sleepy Town

Sleepy little town, how’d it come to be
The whole world lies before you
Your back’s against the sea

Tucker played a little ball, left home for the university
Never made the pros, back here is where he found his feet
Standing six foot nine, easily identified
He’d robbed another liquor store, the law would have their man in time

Deep down in the cut, beneath the refineries
An ex-rival guns him down in a dope-deal-turned-robbery
The paper showed it all too clear, a black and white photograph
A bloody hand and a wad of twenties left lying in the grass

 Sleepy little town, how’d it come to be
The whole world lies before you
Your back’s against the sea

A poster of your face has blown from up the street
For a show that you’ll never play, and it’s resting at my feet
Three hundred pounds of soul blown through an alto saxophone
And a heart streaked blue with tears, and nowhere left to go

With the wind in your face, and your momma on the line
The police try to talk you down, but you didn’t give them time
From high upon the Harbor Bridge to the hard concrete below
“Flip, Flop & Fly” is a song that i can’t play no more

Sleepy little town, how’d it come to be
The whole world lies before you
Your back’s against the sea

© Michael S. O’Connor

Highway Prayer

 For those who the road is all that matters
For them who have lived on borrowed time
For those whose seeds in life are scattered
For them that are too far down the line

  For those who have lived on next to nothing
Playing in a bar in Jacksonville
With nothing but the songs that they are singing
With nothing but the spaces left to fill

 Here’s a highway prayer
Here’s a highway song
Don’t stay too late
Don’t cry too long
You’re coming home, home again
Gonna tell ‘em all where you been

 I used to think the road was all that mattered
I used to like to live on borrowed time
I used to like to live on next to nothing
But I’m still out here living line to line

Living in some old torch singer’s memory
Out here on the road to Tennessee
A place where all our songs and dreams go sailing
And I’ll say one for you, you sing one for me

 Here’s a highway prayer
Here’s a highway song
I won’t stay too late
I won’t cry too long
I’m coming home, home again
Gonna tell ‘em all where I’ve been

 © Adam Carroll

Gulf Coast Losers

 Big Mike’s at the Legion Hall
With Toot-Toot playing pin ball
My brother's out in Houma making that dough
Daddy died in '63
It was just my mom and me
Outsiders call us all a couple of Gulf Coast Losers

There's a FEMA truck parked outside
I'm choking down hot box wine
Saw my best friend floating on a keg of beer
He still owes me forty five
For the hole in my double wide
Just like my ex-wife, he's a Gulf Coast Loser

I win from time to time
Watching Dolly's dimes
Even though I one time flipped a PT Cruiser
The air ain't clear down here
And we're running out of beer
We're always on the run, Gulf Coast Losers

There's a band that's not from here
Called Billy Gibbons’ Beard
They're in town for the Battle of the Bands
My bass player says no fear
Them guys are a bunch of queers
And there's nothing they can take away from a Gulf Coast Loser

I win from time to time
Watching Dolly's dimes
I dropped right outta AA, call me a boozer
I like to smoke that mexican weed
Chase it down with vitamin B
So what if they all call me a Gulf Coast Loser

They pulled out the Flying V
Started shredding in the key of E
They just pulled up in a thirteen-passenger van

All the folks from outta town
Said they really dug their sound
But there ain’t no love around for a Gulf Coast Loser

 One-eyed Wanda said she pass our jar
Up and down the bar
Said she’d shake it like she did when she had the other eye
By the time they made last call, there was no one there at all
We played the curtain call of the Gulf Coast Loser

 I win from time to time
Watching Dolly’s dimes
One-eyed Wanda went home to Refugio with Bruiser
It ain’t the worst night we ever had
Cuz’ we’re drinking on the other band’s tab
I guess things didn’t go too bad for the Gulf Coast Losers
Let’s have another round for the Gulf Coast Losers

 © Michael S. O’Connor, Adam Carroll & Gordy Quist